


The Judgement of Sir Mordred

by Villain_Complex (Random_Fandom_writer)



Series: Merlin Rewritten: God AU [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alliteration, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Arthur becomes king wayy earlier than canon, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Dark Merlin (Merlin), Evil Morgana (Merlin), Gen, God!Merlin, Identity Reveal, Magic Ban Lifted (Merlin), Manipulation, No Slash, Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Uther is fuckin dead, but he doesn't know that He is Emrys, so much alliteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23740651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Fandom_writer/pseuds/Villain_Complex
Summary: The buzzing in Mordred ears has replaced all coherent sound. Fillingfillingfilling his brain upupup until only raw, unadulterated horror remains.The buzzing stops. Along with everything else.Arthur is poised mid smack, hand raised to cuff Merlin in the neck. Frozen. Silent. And so is everything else. Knights practicing on the training field, a bird flapping its wings in the autumn air, servants buzzing around their masters and lugging laundry baskets. Unmoving. Frozenfrozenfrozen."Hello Mordred."
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Mordred (Merlin)
Series: Merlin Rewritten: God AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677964
Comments: 7
Kudos: 256





	The Judgement of Sir Mordred

He goes by many names, though He is mostly known as _The Judge._

_The Judge_ is wise.

_The Judge_ is righteous.

_The Judge_ is cruel.

_The Judge_ knows things, knows everything. All seeing, all hearing, He is _The All Encompassing._ He who peers into the hearts of men, women, children alike. Assessing, analyzing, _judging._ _Searchingsearchingsearching_ for things no one quite knows. Nobody but Him.

He is _The Soul Keeper._ He takes them and tests them. Pokes and prods them. _Searchingsearchingsearching, judgingjudgingjudging_ until He finds it and fails it, or passes it along to Avalon.

Only those who are deemed worthy by ~~_The Judge, The All Encompassing, The Soul Keeper_~~ _,_ Him are allowed entrance to Avalon, and the rest He takes care of Himself. To ensure they receive _proper treatment,_ the treatment they deserve.

He is _The End Of All_ _._ The pestilence, the pain, are things he provides to the weak of mind and horrid of heart. He takes it upon Himself to punish and purge, spread wreck and ruin among the plains of those who have fallen victim to His wrath.

They do of course, deserve it. Because He is right. He is _The Most Accurate One._ He sees to it that each and every soul has and will atone for their crimes, and punishes them accordingly. _The Most Accurate One_ knows best. It is in His name, after all.

To many, He is but a legend. To most, a terrifying reality.

They fear Him and hate Him. Worship and praise Him. They'd do anything to please _The Judge,_ and _The Judge_ loves it. He looks down at the people and laughs and laughs and laughs at the way they beg for clemency. Laughs at the ones who have already been judged. Whose souls are already _His._

The people know Him by many names.

But the Druids call Him _Emrys._

* * *

Sometimes _Emrys_ isn't satisfied.

Sometimes _Emrys_ visits Albion. Hides in a mortal vessel and watches through the eyes of a civilian. Watches the people buy bread, and offer flowers to their beloved, and pelt rotting fruit at an unfortunate soul in the stocks.

He visits Camelot quite often, though it's less of a conscious choice and more of a deep seated pull that draws Him to the (wretched) kingdom. If it was up to Him, He would never step foot in the poisoned place, with the prejudiced people and the unhinged king.

The unhinged king.

_Emrys_ knows it is him who draws Him there. That detestable shell of a human, with a soul adorned with so many impurities it makes even _The End Of All_ desolate. A soul so far gone, _The All Encompassing_ hardly needs to look far to see. To know. A soul so corrupted with hate, and selfishness, and thirst for revenge that _The Judge_ reaches a verdict in a matter of moments. And it is His. _The Soul keeper_ owns his soul, even if the king does not know it yet.

And He must wait. Wait for the blessed day of the unhinged king's death, when he is finally summoned for a judgement long since decided. One decided the moment he chose to selfishly trifle with the powers of magic.

He watches from afar, _waitingwaitingwaiting_. And when the wait is over, when the unhinged king is replaced with the Once And Future King, _Emrys_ will arrive in time for His destiny.

Bringing magic back to Camelot.

* * *

The Once And Future King is strange, and a bit of a prat too. Though _Emrys_ thinks it is up to Him to fix that.

It is slow at first. A confrontation between a peasant and a brand new, hot headed king taking his late father induced grief out on his knights. He introduces Himself as _Merlin,_ because what is one more name among dozens?

And then He saves his life, for which He is awarded a position in the royal household. King Arthur's manservant.

_Emrys_ knows under any other circumstance, He'd have been sent away with a pocket full of gold coins, but destiny has a queer way of making things work. That and He interests the king. He sees how his eyes follow, squinty and daunting. Transfixed. _Tryingtryingtrying_ to decode the gangly boy with the quick wit and a smart mouth. _'There is something about you Merlin,'_ he had said. _'I can't quite put my finger on it.'_

So _Merlin_ smiles. Wide, fake and goofy, and slowly. Slowly wraps the Once And Future King around His finger.

* * *

Over time, _Merlin_ likes to think they've established a bond.

Arthur trusts Him.

Arthur trusts too easily, but maybe that works in His favour because _Emrys_ needs Arthur to trust Him.

Arthur's soul is not pure. He has made mistakes, but _The Judge_ is willing to overlook them. For the sake of both Avalon and Albion. The Once And Future King must prosper in the afterlife.

He will let his soul go. Even though it pains Him to do so.

* * *

The day magic returns to Camelot is a prosperous one.

After a long and arduous journey, fabricated by the thing with a life built on lies (the life of an idiot, clumsy, loveable manservant that is so not _Emrys_ and so very _wrongwrongwrong._ He is _The Manipulator,_ and He sits atop a throne of bones and deception), magic is free for all to practice amongst the stone walls of Camelot. Stone walls that were once so cold, but now hold an immeasurable warmth. The warmth of protection (His protection) and buoyancy.

The Earth sings, rewarding humanity with warm summers and mild winters. Fresh rain during spring, and gentle breeze in autumn. 

Sorcery reigns free once more. 

Magical beings of all origins travel to the Golden Kingdom, gravitating towards _something._ Something they do not know. A source of power that whispers to them in the night, and coils around their hearts. _Shovingshovingshoving_ them into the arms of their new king. The Once And Future King. And unbeknownst to all, the arms of _Emrys._

* * *

Mordred seeks Camelot.

The Druid has heard great stories of the Once And Future King. Of his kindness, compassion, blindness to rank or race. He seeks Camelot, because King Arthur is right. Someone he would be proud to serve under. As a knight of Camelot.

***

It went by quickly.

"My name is Mordred Sire." He offers no other identification, the Druidic symbols adorning his neck and forearms open for all to see. "I wish to serve Camelot."

***

Sixty seconds. 

One minute of combat against King Arthur himself.

And that was all it took.

"You fight well Mordred, well done. You’ve just passed basic training."

* * *

It had been at the knighting ceremony when he felt _The Eyes_ trained on him for the first time. Those searing golden eyes, that search and search and search and _see,_ see everything. No matter how deeply buried amongst memories, no matter how forgotten, no matter how trivial. He is called _The Eyes_ and He sees everything.

Mordred is no fool, he knew there was _something_ more to his desire. Something urging him, something that has managed to herd him right into the hands of the thing he runs from.

No.

No this can't be right.

Mordred isn't dead.

He feels dead though. What with how clammy his neck has become, and the way his chest compresses. Slowly, tightly, _tightertightertigher_ until he is sure his lungs will burst, or at the least collapse. Until _he_ is about to collapse. Collapse in front of the whole court.

And then it is gone, just as a sword is placed gently upon his shoulder. "Rise Sir Mordred, knight of Camelot."

He rises, head tilted proudly and assuring, because _Emrys_ can't touch him here. Not in the land of the living.

For now Mordred is safe. Safe from his past, and mistakes, those horrid mistakes he made. They can't haunt him. Not here, in Camelot.

***

The next time it happens Mordred is alone in his chambers.

_'Mordred,'_ a voice whispers. Low, and husky. Entwined with the breeze that flows from the open window.

Not there. Not real.

The knight buries both hands in his hair, breathing deeply. Controlled. Mordred must keep control.

_'Get out of my head.'_

_'You're not real. You can't be here.'_

"Can't I be?"

When he spins around the window is shut.

* * *

Arthur had been critiquing his footwork when a scruffy looking man wearing expensive robes had jogged over to the pair. _"So_ sorry sire, there was some urgent business to take care of at the boarder of Nemeth," He had said, not looking sorry at all. "Though don't you worry your big head over it, I sorted it out."

"Ah, _Mer_ lin. Mordred, this is Merlin. My Court Sorcerer and our town _idiot."_

The moment their eyes fell on each other, they knew.

Mordred knew.

_Emrys._

And his blood ran cold.

Arthur clapped the Druid on the shoulder. "Don't look so frightened, He's practically harmless. Can't even look a rabbit in the eye."

"Oi. I'm sure Mordred here knows exactly what I'm capable of." He quirks a brow, voice dropping in what only Mordred understands as a threatening tone. "My reputation hasn't managed to elude me so far."

It doesn't matter what either of them are saying anymore. The buzzing in Mordred ears has replaced all coherent sound. _Fillingfillingfilling_ his brain _upupup_ until only raw, unadulterated horror remains. 

The buzzing stops. Along with everything else.

Arthur is poised mid smack, hand raised to cuff _Merlin_ in the neck. Frozen. Silent. And so is everything else. Knights practicing on the training field, a bird flapping its wings in the autumn air, servants buzzing around their masters and lugging large laundry baskets. Unmoving. _Frozenfrozenfrozen._

"Hello Mordred-" He barely manages to speak the words before being cut off.

"Why are you here?" The knight is unable to keep the tremble out of his voice.

He considers the question, face contorting in what only could be described as carefully controlled amusement.

"I got bored."

Mordred barely manages to conceal his whimper of fear as He advances forward.

"I was wasted in Avalon. Things are _so_ much more _exciting_ here." His eyes- those golden eyes that see- flare with sudden euphoria. It looks out of place against the rest of Him.

Suddenly, he droops, sighing sadly. "Shame I'll have to go back soon. I do have a job waiting."

It is an answer, but not the truth, and it is then when he remembers a name. _The Manipulator_ who sits on His throne of bones and deceit, and plays with the people like puppets on strings.

"You're lying."

"I'm lying to everybody, might I remind you just who I am."

_"The Manipulator."_

"Amongst other names, yes."

Mordred takes a steadying breath, rolling his shoulders back to give off the aura of the confidence he lacks. "Why are you really here? Tell me."

_Emrys_ is hardly impressed. "You're a smart man. I'd hate to see you say something you'll regret."

"You're deflecting."

A pause.

"You're here for me. Aren't you?"

_Emrys_ snarls, rearing up and snapping down like a venomous viper. "Don't be so self centered," He spits. "I'm here for a number of reasons, you are only part of it." _Emrys_ pauses, a vicious smile snaking it's way onto His face. "Though I have to admit I did foresee this." Of course He did. _The All Encompassing_ foresees everything. "You have many things in store for your future. None of which I like."

Mordred scoffs. "So that's what this is about. You're condemning me for a crime I have not yet committed."

That seems to be the last straw for Him, because the air shifts dangerously, the skies darkening along with His eyes until they are plunged into a sea of reds and oranges and vibrantly _dangerous_ golds. The creature, _The Judge,_ stretches wanly, limbs extending, snapping. Bending, _twistingtwistingtwisting_ high until He is but a cascade of black, elongated limbs.

When He speaks, His voice is low. Rough. _Dangerous._

"Who are you to decide against my judgement?"

And it is that exact moment when Mordred realizes his soul no longer belongs to him.

* * *

When Mordred kills Arthur in the Battle of Camlann, he understands just what He meant. And with it, understands exactly what waits for him as the king uses the last of his strength to plunge Excalibur into his chest.

He smiles, wide and deranged, and over Arthurs shoulder, _The Soul Keeper_ smiles back.

_The Judge_ has decided his fate.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea hit me in the face as I was making scones so. Have it. 
> 
> Please ignore the obvious plot holes within this fic, I just really liked this idea and it's much too short to do a whole lot of world building. That and I'm lazy.


End file.
